Beautiful Pain
by StripyRose
Summary: Sasuke battles with his periodic depression, until he finally finds a solution: cutting. And it's perfect, until things start to spiral out of his control. WARNING: Self-mutilation.
1. Chapter 1

Even as I woke I kept my eyes closed, taking in a deep breath of warm summer air coming in through my open window. Usually air like that made me feel better – warmer. But this time it didn't. It was just a slump, really, just a phase of depression that would pass. I just had to keep my mind set on my goal: killing Itachi. I grimaced at the ceiling. Killing Itachi… I was determined, sure, and I definitely wanted him dead, but the idea felt so pathetic to me right then. The determination no longer lit a fire in my limbs that would keep me training for hours, and the thought of my brother's life running red from his body no longer filled me with that sick joy that I hated myself for. I felt apathetic, tired. All I wanted to do was sleep – because there was no point.

But, I jerked myself upright and opened my eyes, forcing energy into my arms and legs, it was just a slump – I _knew_ that. That's all it was, and what I really needed to do was get up and train because otherwise I would regret it.

So that's what I did; I went back to throwing fancy knives at trees.

The slump lasted into the next week and into a training exercise involving exploding kunai knives and a captured doll. It was boring to say the least, and I struggled every second to summon up the strength to bother trying to save the stupid doll. I don't think any of them noticed. One of the advantages of always acting grumpy and surly is that no one notices the difference when you really are grumpy and surly. They probably thought that I was always depressed, now that I look back on it.

Anyone who has suffered the same depression as me will understand the feeling of crushing lethargy that it occasionally brings – that lazy, disinterested, tiredness that constantly weighs you down and stops you wanting to do anything at all. That feeling, plus kunai knives flying everywhere, equals bad. I even saw the knife, but during that long moment in which I could have easily dodged the blade I decided not to. I just couldn't be bothered. I just didn't care. I should probably clarify that it wasn't that I didn't want to care, because I did, it's just that the lethargy affected my emotions just as much as my body – I just didn't have the energy to care.

And as the knife sliced through my thigh, I cringed in pain, and then fell to my knees as the severed muscle gave way under my weight. I swore in my mind as Naruto and Sakura called my name, and they headed towards me. Kakashi, of course reached me first.

He said something to me, but I wasn't listening. I felt odd. No, not odd… good. I felt good. Hot, bubbling warmth was spreading through my body from the burning pain in my leg. It was… beautiful. Exquisite. It brought me back to life, back into animation, back from that terrible tar-like, drowning apathy and into the real world where things do actually _matter_.

"Sasuke?" I looked into Kakashi's single concerned eye, "Are you okay?"

I looked down at my thigh, to find Sakura's hands coated in my blood putting pressure on the wound as she healed it with her green chakra. Warmth spread upwards in my chest, and I began to laugh. I couldn't help it – I felt too good, too happy, too _alive and well…_

I heard Naruto mutter something, and saw Kakashi and Sakura exchange concerned looks, but I didn't care. I was high.

That was how I became a cutter. Each time I drew a blade across my skin, after the initial pain, the buzz was incredible. Each time the warmth spread through me, cradled me, lifted me out of depression. It didn't really make me happy… But it certainly stopped me feeling sad. It cleared my head and allowed me to think rationally and simply, without negativity clouding my judgement.

The only downside was the very obvious cuts that remained, which I hid under clothing. Rather than cutting the preferable thin skin of my wrist, I cut on my chest and stomach to make them easier to hide. I obviously didn't want people to find out about my newfound habit. I wasn't particularly ashamed – I liked doing it, and wouldn't have stopped for the world – but I knew that the moment one of my team-members found out it would be straight to the counsellor for me. I'd rather drink lemon-juice through my eyeballs. Just the thought of going back to a shrink makes me want to cut an arm off…

I don't know when it became an addiction. The first time I felt the _need _to cut was on a mission with Naruto, Sakura and Kakashi. I felt the terrible depression beginning to set in again just as we left the village, but I ignored it. I could cope with it until I could cut again.

Turned out I couldn't cope with it. Or at least, it certainly _felt _like I couldn't cope. I felt like I was hanging by a thread above a pit of fire that was already singing my skin, burning me and tormenting me. Any second, that thread would snap and I would fall down into the pit of burning flame, back down into depression once again. In all the time I had spent healing depression away with a pain-induced buzz, I had lost the ability to cope with emotional stress, and now that I felt it with full force it was overwhelming me.

I _had to cut._ It wasn't just a slight, whimsical desire – it was full-blown _need. _Irresistible, crushing, _burning need. _Anything to make that other pain disappear. _Anything._

I managed to force myself to wait until we stopped, and then, under the pretence of needing the toilet, I left them to find my own secluded space. I took a kunai, and with it I numbed myself.

For the first time since the cutting began it didn't feel okay to be doing it. I didn't feel okay. I felt… numb, as soon as the desire to cut had been satisfied. And I shed a few tears because I knew that from thereon I didn't have the choice to simply stop hurting myself; from thereon, if I wanted to stop cutting, it would become a battle that would very nearly kill me.


	2. Chapter 2

I knew that I should have been angry with myself for starting this. I knew that I should have been angry with myself for continuing. But as I drew the blade across a piece of skin just above my diaphragm, and the rush of ecstasy hit me, I just couldn't bring myself to be angry at anything at all.

It's like I had two minds, both battling for their say on my actions and both believing, absolutely, that they knew what was best for me. One told me to stop cutting; the other told me that anything that felt so good couldn't possibly be bad for me. The latter was the one that was easy to listen to – it didn't require any strength to just crumble and give in to the desire to cut. It didn't require any effort to _want _to cut, because it made me feel good – it's that simple. I harmed myself to feel good.

But somewhere I knew I should listen to that other voice; the _pure _voice. The one that told me I needed help, the one that was kind and sweet and trusting of other people, the one that was intrinsically strong enough to cope with pain, and _good_ enough to admit that I was not okay.

Or _did_ I want to listen to it? There were too many conflicting thoughts and beliefs clouding my judgement, and I could no longer think clearly. The immense, swirling confusion in my mind was only cleared by the raw, clean slice of a blade across my skin. There was nothing complicated about a blade, or a cut, and there was nothing complicated about the feeling they gave me; it simply felt _good, _nothing less. It cleared my mind of all thought, and temporarily let me drift through life with nothing but the vaguest of cares. For the moment, I told myself, until I can think clearly I have to keep cutting.

I didn't really have the time to sit and wallow in the workings of my own mind. We were being sent on a mission – quite a long mission, so I was told. And quite dangerous. It's odd how things change. A few months previously and I would have been ecstatic; I would have considered it just another step closer to killing Itachi. But at the time my reaction was completely different, my priorities centred around something else entirely. Most importantly: How was I going to get my fix? And how was I going to do it with no one noticing? I had no idea.

When we left my bag was heavy with antiseptic (just because I cut myself didn't mean I was careless; I may as well carry a banner around declaring myself a cutter if one of my wounds got infected, because my team members would definitely find out), a blood-clotting agent and several bandages. There was nothing too suspicious about it if you had no idea what it was all really for, and on a mission someone was bound to get hurt. Maybe even someone other than me.

I had been naïve. I had thought that I would have been able to cope for at least a few days before the need to cut became unbearable. I was very wrong – sickeningly wrong.

I wish I could get across to you the intensity of the feeling of that need to cut. It was like my mind was breaking down, being consumed by a seething fire of desperation. I felt as I would if oxygen was being taken from me; frightened, despairing. Every inch of my skin crawled, begging to be broken – begging to be ripped apart, reminding me every second of the cuts on my stomach and chest. As if I needed to be reminded. I wanted to tear at them, to make them re-open and bleed, and hurt. Hurt. My mind curled around the word, cradled it and held it close while I reeled at the very thought of it. My breath caught. _Not long now, _I told myself. And I clung to that, using it like glue to hold myself together while I held out in torment, heart racing and palms sweating, for the moment I could finally slice myself open.

Looking back on it, I'm surprised none of my team members noticed my internal struggle. That the orange idiot, Naruto, didn't notice wasn't all too surprising - back then he had all the intuition of a curtain pole. Sakura was also not too surprising, but I had expected Kakashi to be harder to fool. He was supposed to be able to read people well. Or maybe he did notice, but I was too out of it to notice him noticing…

I got my chance. And it was very worth the wait. I was alone, and it was very early morning – just light. I snuck away from where Naruto, Sakura and Kakashi were sleeping, and walked for a short while into the forest. I was far enough that I would have warning if they woke, but not so far that I wasn't within helping distance should they be attacked.

I shook as I pulled my kunai from the pouch at my waist, and transferred it to between my teeth as I pulled up my shirt and tucked the hem under an armpit to hold it. Quickly, I took the blade back from my teeth and took a deep breath. I didn't hesitate – I was too desperate for that, the idea of resisting seemed laughable to me, both funny and terrifying. I closed my eyes as I drew the kunai across my stomach, gasping slightly as I felt the initial sting of the blade. And then… it was beautiful. I laughed weakly in relief, and staggered backwards to lean against a tree. The burning need was replaced with a deep, glorious warmth and euphoria. I felt as if a thousand tonnes had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt like I could fly. I slid down the tree trunk I was leaning against to sit on the damp moss at the base, the intensity of the high making me weak. There was no pain, only liquid heat that spread through my veins with the most exquisite of sensations. I laughed, again, opening my eyes to a world that suddenly looked so bright and perfect. How I loved the world, just then.

It felt much more intense than usual. Whether because I had gone longer without it than usual, or because I cut deeper I don't know. And I didn't care, I felt far too good to think about anything. I just laid my head back against the tree and sunk deep into the heavy, numbing warmth that enveloped me.

Once the peak of the high had subsided, I regained enough wits to get up and change into some clean clothing. Next time, I thought, I would do it naked to make it easier to get rid of the blood. I would have to hide those clothes. I had cut much deeper than I had done before, and I was forced to use some clotting stuff to stop the bleeding quickly. I bandaged it up to keep it sterile and stop it from bleeding too much, and then headed back to our camp, still pleasantly high. It was slightly difficult to walk – the warmth made my muscles relax to an extent that tensing them and using them to hold up my weight felt wrong. It brought me back a little into reality, and all I really wanted to do was to collapse back to the floor and feel nothing but _good. _But I couldn't, and with my mind clear again it was easier to think rationally.

I met Naruto on my way back, much to my surprise. I wouldn't have expected him to be conscious at that time in the morning, let alone walking about.

"Kakashi's lookin' for you." He yawned at me, and then squinted at my face, "You look weird."

"Shut up." I told him, trying to keep in character. It was difficult, because I didn't feel angry at all, and I didn't see the need to snap at him. The words that would usually annoy me just rolled past my ears harmlessly. I resisted the insane urge to hug him.

" Lets go back to camp." I told him, trying not to smile.

"Are you high?" The question caught me completely off guard and I stood utterly still, shocked.

"What are you talking about, idiot?" I snarled, because then I _was_ annoyed. Trust him to know exactly what to say to completely ruin my buzz. Now I needed to cut again. I stomped past him and towards the camp, my jaw clamped down. I wasn't just angry, either. I was worried: If the orange idiot had noticed something, then surely the others would. I had no idea what I looked like when I was on a high, so I couldn't be sure how obvious it was. My heart beat fast as I entered the camp and Kakashi looked up at me.

"Are you ready to go, Sasuke?"

I nodded, and he didn't say anything else. I looked back at Naruto, who was trying to transfer all the contents of his bag from where they were strewn on the ground, back into his bag. I relaxed, finally. But it was too late – the high was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

I struggled long and hard to come up with this chapter, sitting here with my hands on the keyboard just staring at the screen, waiting for words to come. Finally, I feel like I'm in the right frame of mind to write something suitable dark and depressing. So I will start now. I have no more ideas about how this story will end than you do, so we will just have to find out together.

* * *

The ambush ruined all my plans. It was going to be a good morning – I was going to get up early, pretend I was hungry enough to eat breakfast with Kakashi while Naruto still slept and Sakura attempted to tame her pink, morning birds-nest of a hair-do. And then, once food was in my stomach and I had convinced all my team-mates it was just a normal morning, I would slip off to wash. And I would actually wash, but only after I had sliced a few new cuts into my chest.

As things happened I didn't get my good morning. I didn't get to slice a few more cuts into my chest and mentally prepare myself for the day. I didn't even get the chance to convince my team mates that I was still the same old, hate-driven Sasuke as always. No. Because we were attacked before any of that could happen.

I went through an odd sort of dilemma as we fought for our lives. A knife no longer looked dangerous to me; it looked the opposite. A knife meant pain, sweet, sweet pain, and beautiful mind-numbing, tender relief. Relief from what I was no longer sure, but it was certainly relief all the same.

So as the enemy ninja ran towards me and threw their kunai, it as oddly hard to avoid the blades. I could see how perfectly sharp they were, the light glistening off the edges, dancing, calling me like a siren. Perhaps if I had been given my good morning I would have stood a chance against that call. Perhaps if I had the pain of a few fresh cuts on my chest I would have been able to retain some sense of rationality, but as much as I fought it I seemed to be pulled into a trance, the knives dragging up again a desperation that I could not resist.

You have to understand, and if you can't please don't judge me. I _needed _to cut. Or at least that's what it felt like, and in the end life is all about what we feel like. Our lives are driven by emotions, and in that moment I was driven by my desperate need for pain.

No one noticed (apart from possibly the guy who was attacking me) as I stilled for just a fraction of a second to allow one of those beautiful blades catch my arm. I barely even noticed myself deciding to do it – I'm not even sure I _did decide _to do it; I just did.

I felt it slide past my skin, through my muscle and the slight scrape as the tip scratched bone.

That was the point where instinct should have kicked in. I should have had a voice scream out at me in my head: _You're in danger, Sasuke. Move!_

And maybe it did scream at me, but I'm not sure anything would have got through to me in that moment. I wasn't there anymore in that fight, my mind was blank and light, feeling nothing but the pain and the euphoria that came with it.

In the wash of numbness that came to me after the initial high I vaguely felt another blade slash across my back, and then a scream. It could have been me screaming, but I don't think it was. If I had the strength to make any noise at all I would have laughed, not screamed. Screaming is for those who are scared.

* * *

When I woke it was to the smell of wood smoke and antiseptic. My eye-lids felt like they were made of lead, and I hadn't the strength to open them. So I lay and took in the sound and smells around me, and let my mind slowly catch up.

I could hear people moving, sniffing and shuffling and coughing as they breathed in the wood-smoke. I could hear the fire crackling, and now that I was paying attention I could feel it's warmth down the right side of my body, making my left side feel chilled in comparison. I shivered.

I felt peaceful, lying there in unknown surroundings. For all I knew I could have been captive in an enemy camp, my teammates lying dead elsewhere, but although that possibility occurred to me it didn't seem to phase me in the slightest. I just thought it and then passed it off. I guess I was still caught up in the afterglow of such a deep cut… I felt a smile twist the corners of my mouth at the memory, and that woke me up a little more – the feeling of my body moving.

"Sasuke?" I knew that voice. What I didn't recognise was the tone. Well, actually, I _did _recognise the tone. But the voice and the tone didn't work together; Naruto _never _sounded like that. He never sounded… I cant find a single word, so let me supply a few: sad, serious… solemn. Melancholy. His voice just didn't fit the tone. And I couldn't imagine the tone coming from his lips. Don't get me wrong, I know that Naruto isn't all air and ignorance – he's had his fair share of problems. But. That tone just wasn't Naruto. Lets leave it at that.

Anyway. I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me, his blue eyes just as _wrong _as that tone. I searched his face, one side lit by warm, flickering light and the other side dark, drinking in this new side of Naruto.

"How are you feeling?" He asked me, again with the tone that wasn't him.

I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again. How _was _I feeling? My back ached where it had been slashed, and my upper arm throbbed gently. I glanced over at it, shrugging to free it from the blanket that had been placed over me. It was bandaged, of course, and I was oddly disappointed. I wanted to see the wound.

"Are you… in pain?" He choked slightly on the last word.

I shook my head and then glanced around without lifting my head more than a few centimetres. I could see pink hair sticking out of the top of a sleeping bag a few feet away, and the end of another sleeping bag that I assumed contained Kakashi.

Naruto saw me looking and said, "I volunteered to stay watch."

I dropped my head back to the ground and looked up at him again.

He didn't look at me, but stared into the fire.

"Sasuke…"

I should have been expecting what came next, but I'm not sure that I was really thinking anything in those few minutes after just waking up. If I were thinking then I wouldn't have been half as slow on the uptake. Lets blame it on blood loss.

"Sasuke, you… your chest." He left it at that. And that was all he needed to say.

It was as if his words sent me into total panic mode. I froze, cold sweat beginning to bead from my pores. My brain struggled with itself, trying to find something constructive to think; trying to piece everything together while coming up with a story as to why my body was littered with cuts and scars, all perfectly straight and ordered and many new.

Of course he had seen them. I was topless. When he had tended my arm and my back he would have seen them. And not just Naruto, I realised, and my insides began to feel like they were shrinking. Sakura and Kakashi. They had all seen it. They knew.


	4. Chapter 4

While Naruto watches Sasuke sleep:

Finally I had cooled from anger, but was still unable to sleep as I battled to understand. I had heard of self-harm before, but I had never seen it. There had been a little part of my brain that was sceptical about it – as if it were completely unbelievable that human beings would hurt themselves.

I know I'm not the brightest of people, but I understand pain and I understand the need to feel better, and I understand the feeling of weighing helplessness as emotions spiral downwards into depression. There were certain situations I had been in during which I don't know what I would have done to relieve myself of those particular feelings. But cutting… the idea of sliding a blade into my own skin made me shudder and I wrapped my arms around myself as if in protection. Kakashi had said that it was a coping mechanism, not unlike the way people use drugs to feel better. I struggled to get my head around it. How does pain cure pain? I posed that question to myself, and let it roll around in my head for a moment before admitting that I had no answer. Frustration rose within me, quickly blooming into anger as a dark heat in my chest. My eyes began to sting with tears and I glared at the fire, clenching my fists down as if that would help. My nails dug into the palm of my hands and stung and I concentrated on that, trying to calm down.

Maybe the cutting was like that for Sasuke. Maybe the cutting was like me digging my nails into the palm of my hand – a distraction. For a moment it felt like I had it figured out, like I understood, but then a voice in my head said: But there are other ways to distract.

It was like those words struck a gong in my head, and the feeling of understanding vanished, along with the small remainder of anger. I was left feeling empty, helpless and completely useless. The worst of it was knowing that there are ways to help someone through something like that, but I had no idea how. I curled my toes inwards and pulled my feet in close to my body, wrapping my arms around my legs while I blinked away the tears that threatened to overflow.

I watched the fire and the flickering light calmed me until I felt strong enough to look down at Sasuke. I watched his pale, sleeping face, trying not to see all the blotchy red cuts again in my minds eye. As I watched, one corner of his mouth tugged into a smile, and his chin lifted slightly.

"Sasuke?" I called his name, quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

Have you ever heard the phrase "inner turmoil"? I had never really understood what it meant… up until then, lying there with my salvation and guilt bandaged with white cloth. Covered as if it were something evil. Inconclusive thoughts and feelings whirled about my head, bouncing off the walls in confusion. Nothing stayed still long enough for me to understand it or to contemplate it as I struggled to come up with something to say. It was a little while before I gave up trying to find a way to convince him that I hadn't been the one to carve up my own chest – his eyes told me that he already knew. His eyes also told me that he thought it was wrong, that I had _issues_. And a thought struck me, stood still against the pounding of all my whirling confusion: _Nothing that I say will change his mind._ They had already made a decision – I wasn't going to be allowed to cut anymore. That thought silenced my mind, and poured oil on a single set of emotions smouldering in the back of my head. Anger exploded within me.

Think about comfort. Think about a warm blanket around your shoulders, and a mug of hot tea in your hands. Think about a mothers embrace. Think about it and smile, feel good – exactly the way I feel about my own comforts, no matter how different they are from yours.

Now think about never having those comforts again. Feel the fear that I did, right there, warm in a blanket beside a fire, as I considered never being allowed to cut again. Fear and anguish and desperation as I searched Naruto's gaze for some sign that he understood; that he might not try to take that from me. Of course, I found no such sign. Naruto had no idea what to say to me – he had no idea what I was thinking, feeling, or _why._

My hackles raised, and Naruto's eyes widened slightly as my expression iced over into defensive anger.

"What about my chest?" I challenged him, keeping my voice low.

"Why are you angry?" He searched my face, his eyes still wide and confused.

The hurt in his voice got to me. I felt a lump rise in my throat and my stomach tightened as my eyes stung. I held my anger tight, refusing to let it go and give into tears – that would just convince him that I wasn't okay. And I was okay. I swallowed and looked away, blinking the stinging away. Fuck, I really needed to cut.

* * *

Hey guys, I'm really sorry that this chapter is so short - I know the previous one was too. I have really struggled to get this one right, but I think it's there now. The next chapter will be easier so I should be able to update faster...

Enjoy! xx


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